


Illegally Blonde

by PenguinMerchant



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, For reasons, M/M, Nicaise (Captive Prince) Lives, also they're brothers, laurent pretends to be dumb, not good reasons honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27267559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinMerchant/pseuds/PenguinMerchant
Summary: “That's it,” he says, and pulls on his jacket. “I'm saying something.”“Laurent, don't,” Auguste says, reaching out to grab his arm. “Think about this, for a moment. They're probably roaring drunk and even if they weren't they'd be no match for you. Why don't you just let it go, enjoy a drink with your favorite brothers in the whole world, and have a nice, soothing night. Hmm?”Laurent settles down, and takes a deep breath. He shucks off his jacket, earning him a warm smile from Auguste.“You're right,” he says, letting the anxious breath his brothers had been holding wash over him before continuing. “If I'm going to eviscerate them and make them regret every decision that's led them to this point in their sorry little lives, I'm going to need a better plan."His brothers groan in unison, and Laurent smiles evilly.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 67
Kudos: 370





	Illegally Blonde

**Author's Note:**

> Big shoutout to the Capri discord for coming up with this idea! I hope I did it justice.

“Laurent,” Auguste says, his face pinched in worry, “don't do anything...”

“Dumb?” Laurent hisses, slamming his drink down on the table, a drop of the amber liquid inside sloshing out. Next to him Nicaise flinches, probably more worried about the approximately $5 of superb whiskey Laurent had just spilled than the fact that he was about two seconds away from combusting into an angry ball of fire. “Were you seriously going to say dumb?”

“I wasn't going to say that,” Auguste says hurriedly. “I was going to say 'impulsive'.”

“And then the blonde says, by the way it's a Ferrari, not a porch!” And cue the raucous laughter from the table on the other side of the bar, hidden from sight by a giant marlin that was hanging from the ceiling. Laurent clutches his drink in his hands, knowing that one more dumb blonde joke will have him crushing the glass to shards.

He has had a bad day, to put it lightly. So bad that he had called his older brother to complain about it, so bad that he had let Auguste talk him into coming out, and apparently even worse than he thought since Auguste had brought Nicaise in for reinforcement. And it was all going rather well, and Laurent could feel the tension slowly unwinding from him as he got to hang out with his two favorite people in the world, Nicaise needling and poking at him in a way that made him forget how angry he was and Auguste smoothing everything over with his patented older brother charm—and then those _barbarians_ had sat down on the other side of that stupid fish and had begun their non stop blonde jokes, and Laurent was two seconds away from running that marlin's snout through their heads.

“They're not that bad,” Auguste says, interrupting Laurent's thoughts of how much force it would take to crush a human skull with a preserved piece of fish. “Honestly they're not even that funny. Maybe you could try to find the humor in the situation?”

He winces as he says this, which detracts from the impact he was trying to make, somewhat.

“There's no humor in repeating stupid jokes gleaned from the pages of Reader's Digest,” Laurent snaps.

“Well, Auguste is blond too and he doesn't seem to be upset,” Nicaise says, gesturing towards their older brother. “Maybe you should tell him your secrets for having such a thick hide, Auguste. Besides, you know. The obvious.”

“First off,” Laurent says before Auguste can even open his mouth to reply to this slight, “Auguste is hardly blond. In bad lighting most people would probably call him a brunet.”

An offended scoff from Auguste, who flips his hair in defiance of this proclamation.

“Secondly, he wasn't enrolled in Harvard Law School when Legally Blonde came out. Do you know,” Laurent says, slamming his drink down on the table again, another $5 soaking into the wood, “how much shit I had to put up with because of Elle fucking Woods?”

Nicaise smiles broadly. “Hey, I liked that movie. Do you remember the scene with the bend and--”

“So help me god, Nicaise,” Laurent says, the low thrumming anger of his voice making Nicaise's mouth snap shut with an audible click. “If you value your life do not finish that sentence.”

“How do you make a blonde's eyes light up?” Comes a raised voice from the barbarian table. A pause to allow for dramatic tension, and Laurent closes his eyes against the answer.

“You shine a light in their ear!”

“That's it,” he says, and pulls on his jacket. “I'm saying something.”

“Laurent, don't,” Auguste says, reaching out to grab his arm. “Think about this, for a moment. They're probably roaring drunk and even if they weren't they'd be no match for you. Why don't you just let it go, enjoy a drink with your favorite brothers in the whole world, and have a nice, soothing night. Hmm?”

Laurent settles down, and takes a deep breath. He shucks off his jacket, earning him a warm smile from Auguste, and then motions to the bartender for another drink. He had spilled most of his on the table with every slamming motion; it was only fair he got another.

“You're right,” he says, letting the anxious breath his brothers had been holding wash over him before continuing. “If I'm going to eviscerate them and make them regret every decision that's led them to this point in their sorry little lives, I'm going to need a better plan."

His brothers groan in unison, and Laurent smiles evilly.

* * *

  
  


“Oh shit, he's coming over here,” Damen whispers to Nikandros.

“Wasn't that the whole point of sending him a drink?” Nik grumbles back.

“Okay please, you guys, please be cool,” Damen says, watching as the most attractive man he's ever seen in his life walks towards them. “Don't ruin this for me.”

“Hey guys, what do you say when you talk to a blond in a bar?” Kastor asks them.

“Please, Kastor, no more blond jokes, I'm begging you,” Damen says for the twentieth time tonight. He gets it—he has a type, and no one likes pointing that out as much as his best friend and his older brother. Like Kastor had any room to talk; Jokaste would murder him if he so much as thought a word of one of his jokes in her direction. Maybe that's why he seemed to be trying to get them all out of his system in one night.

“You don't say anything. Because Damen's already hitting on them, get it?” Kastor says, and Nik tries to hide a laugh.

Damen kicks them both under the table as the man approaches, carrying the drink Damen had bought for him in his hands.

“Hi,” the most attractive person Damen has ever seen in his life says. Holy _shit_ his eyes are the most amazing blue color Damen's ever seen. He's even more attractive when he's smiling, if that's possible.

“So, the waiter said one of you guys bought this drink, but then he kept trying to give it to me?” he says, his face scrunched up in confusion. “I don't know if he just didn't want to come over here and deliver it himself, or...”

“It's for you,” Damen says. “I bought it for you.”

“Ohhhh,” the man says, drawing out the word. “You were trying to hit on me.”

Damen blushes fiercely and ignores the muffled laughter from his neighbors.

“Yeah, I guess I was,” he says, recovering. “Do you want to sit down so I can hit on you in person?”

A small, fierce smile flits across the guy's face, there and gone so fast that Damen's not even sure he had seen it, but then the guy is sitting across from him with a warm, lazy expression and Damen finds that he has better things to concern himself with.

“I'm Damen,” he says, introducing himself. “And this is my cousin Nikandros and my older brother Kastor.”

The guy gives Nik and Kastor polite but disinterested nods.

“I'm Lo,” he says. He brings up a hand and places it delicately on his chest, the movement at once graceful and sensual. Damen knows with unerring certainty that this man will probably be the death of him. “Nice to meet you, Darren.”

Damen blinks.

“Oh, it's Damen, actually.”

Lo stares at him blankly for a moment. “I'm Lo,” he repeats, slowly.

Damen nods. This was turning out to be a slightly rocky start. “My name is Damen. It's short for Damianos, but most people have trouble with a name that long. My friends call me Damen.” He hopes repeating it enough times will get the message across.

“Day Me An Nos,” Lo says, testing each syllable out on his tongue. “That's such a pretty name. Let me guess. You're Russian. I had a roommate from Russia in college. Killed an old lady and her sister with an axe. Very sad.”

Kastor spits out his drink.

“Ah, no,” Damen says, taking a brief second when Lo brings his drink up to his lips to shoot Kastor a warning glance. “We're Greek, actually.”

“Oh my gosh, I was in a fraternity in college too!” Lo says, beaming at him. Damen doesn't have the heart to interrupt him, which is a good thing as Lo barely stops for a single breath. “Sigma Mu Delta. Please don't tell me you're one of those shitty Alpha or Beta guys, I don't think my poor heart could take it.”

“Um, no. Actually the university I went to didn't really have a big fraternity culture. I had to make it up by watching Animal House a hundred times instead,” Damen says with a smile. “I had to get that college experience in somehow since I was usually too busy studying.”

“Oh wow, I didn't know they made Animal House into a movie!” Lo says, smiling back broadly. “If I had known that I would have totally watched it in high school instead of reading it. So boring, you know? Like, animals can't even talk, how is this supposed to be believable?”

Damen sneaks a glance over at Nik, who's barely containing his laughter. He frowns at his friend before turning back to Lo, who's watching him with a strangely intense energy.

“I, uh, think you're getting that confused with Animal Farm,” Damen says gently.

“Yeah, that's what I said,” Lo says, voice laced with a slightly condescending amount of patience. He cocks his head towards Damen, a pitying gaze on his face. “Animal House. Don't tell me you never read it. Let me guess, you probably read _1989_ instead. I guess you're not much of a bookworm, are you?”

“I think you mean _1984_ ,” Nik says, a little rudely.

“And _I_ think I know my Orson Wells books,” Lo replies, matching his rudeness inch for inch. “Besides, it's easy for me to remember since I was born in 1989. Year of the snake,” he says, winking at Damen.

“And also a Taylor Swift album,” Kastor says. “But most definitely _not_ a book by George Orwell.”

“Thanks for the history lesson, Big Brother,” Lo says, shooting Kastor down with a glance. He turns back to Damen. “You grill everyone you hit on with trivia about high school reading list titles?”

“Ah, no. Sorry about my friends, they just never want me to be happy. Ignore them.”

Lo smiles languidly at him, and considers him with a dangerous expression on his face.

“So,” he says, running a finger idly around the rim of his glass, “you seem, like, really smart. Where'd you go to school, hotshot? I bet it was somewhere fancy.”

Damen tries to ignore how turned on he is by the strange saccharine hostility Lo is directing at him right now.

“Actually, I went to Yale,” Damen says, gesturing towards Kastor and Nik. “We all did. I doubt any of us consider it fancy after spending four years there eating the terrible dorm food, but I have a feeling that's something most colleges have in common. How about you?”

Lo's eyes narrow and Damen thinks he hears him mutter, “fuckin' Yale,” under his breath.

“I'm sorry?” he says.

But then that carefully blank gaze is turned back on, and Lo smiles at him again. “Yale's like a really prestigious school!” he says enthusiastically, although something about the way he says it makes Damen feel like he's making fun of him. “My older brother almost went there, but then he finally got accepted into Harvard, thank god. Still, it's a good backup school.”

“Backup school?” Nikandros says, eyes narrowing dangerously. “Yale? And where'd you go to school, princess?”

Damen frowns at Nik, but Lo doesn't seem fazed. “The _world_ is my school,” he says, batting his eyelashes at Nik in a way that causes him to scoff. “There's just like, so much knowledge out there and all you have to do is just reach out and take it. Did you guys know there's a place like, in this very city that just _gives_ you books? And there's _so_ many of them and you can just take them home. And you don't even have to pay for them or anything.”

“Are you talking about a library?” Nik asks incredulously. “You know you have to give those back, don't you?”

“I don't think that's right,” Lo says, frowning. “Besides, I had to work really hard to get those stickers off so it seems like I earned them, you know? And they look good on my shelf.” He turns back to Damen. “It's organized by color. Very chic.”

“So have you seen any good movies lately?” Damen asks, desperate to distract from Nikandros' outraged spluttering.

“Oh, yeah!” Lo says, smiling again, and Damen thinks that any amount of outraged spluttering is worth getting to see Lo smile like that. “I watched a documentary about the Salem Witch trials the other night. It was really scary."

"Oh wow, I watched that too," Damen says, glad to be on safer ground now. "I thought it was great. It's a really pointed commentary about what mob mentality can do to even well intentioned people. I wish I could say that our society today would never do something like that again, but I'm kind of afraid we would."

Lo looks confused. "I suppose that's one way to look at it. But...they were actually witches, so they did kind of deserve it."

"No, that was the whole point of the trials," Damen says. "The girls admitted to making it all up."

"But...they showed them doing witchy things," Lo says, even more confused now. "They were riding around on brooms--well, one of them had a vacuum, because she couldn't find a broom--but they raised a man from the dead, cursed a man to eternal life as a cat...I'm pretty sure they were actually witches."

"Are you talking about Hocus Pocus?" Kastor asks in amazement.

"Yeah, that was the name of it!" Lo says, triumphant. "Have you seen it?"

"You know that's a fictional movie, right?" Kastor says. "Please tell me you know that."

Lo shakes his head. "No, it took place in Salem. That's where the witch trials were." He turns to Damen and rolls his eyes. "I'm really hoping your brother isn't one of those crazy conspiracy theorists who's like, a Holocaust denier or something."

"I'm not a...you know it starred Bette Middler, right? Did the musical number in the middle of the movie not give it away?" Kastor is shouting now, and Damen puts a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Well obviously they had to get actresses to recreate it," Lo says. "If they shot it back when it actually happened it would have been in black and white, and no one likes to watch _those_ kinds of movies."

"Damen," Kastor says, sending him a pleading look. "You're killing me, brother."

Damen ignores him and turns back to Lo, who has a triumphant grin on his face. When he notices Damen looking the smug grin disappears, gone in a flash, replaced by that vacant, pretty smile once again.

Damen smiles broadly.

"So, Lo," he says, "seems like you're not much of a reader, or movie goer. You play sports?”

“Sure,” Lo says, shrugging. “Tennis. Racquetball. Fencing. Anything that doesn't require teamwork.”

“Oh wow, you fence?” Damen asks. “That's pretty interesting, I've always thought sword fighting looked really cool.”

“I mean, I _don't_ fence,” Lo says, rolling his eyes, “but I could. It's just hitting people with sticks, how hard is that? I do that all the time.”

“All the time?” Nikandros says, giving Damen a hard look.

“How 'bout you?” Lo asks, setting his elbow on the table and dropping his chin into his palm. “You look very...” he looks him up and down once, provocatively, but there's something teasing in his gaze, “...teamwork driven. Let me guess. Football. Quarterback.”

Damen laughs. “No, no football. Lacrosse.”

“Rich people's football, then,” Lo says.

“Sort of,” Damen says. “More like...hitting people with sticks, honestly.”

Lo's mouth quirks up in a smile, there and gone again so quickly Damen is sure he's imagined it.

“Well,” he says, finishing off the last of his drink, “it looks like we managed to find something in common after all. We both think with our sticks.”

“Welp,” Kastor says, standing up and clapping Damen on the shoulder with a little too much force to be friendly, “it's time for another drink. Want anything, Damen? Another beer? An escape rope?”

“Do you want to go up to the balcony?” Damen asks Lo, ignoring his brother. “It's a little quieter up there. Less obnoxious assholes everywhere.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Lo says, his eyes sparkling like sapphires. “I've been trying to get away from obnoxious assholes all night.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


When they get up to the balcony there's only a few other people sitting on some couches scattered around, the music from downstairs just a barely audible hum. The view over the city is gorgeous, and Laurent makes a mental note to take his brothers up here the next time they meet up for drinks. He walks over to the railing to lean over and admire the view, and Damen falls in next to him.

For a moment they're silent, content to just take in the city beneath them. When Laurent turns to make a comment about how pretty the city looks from this vantage point he finds that Damen is looking at him intently, and he doesn't look away when Laurent catches his eye.

“I'm sorry,” Laurent says, not used to being under such harsh scrutiny from anyone. Usually most people turned away when they met his steely blue glare, but Damen was looking at him like he was trying to read the answers to the universe in his eyes. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” Damen says, still staring. “I'm just trying to figure out where I know you from.”

For a second Laurent panics, although he very carefully doesn't let that panic show in his face. Could Damen be someone he's faced in court before? Or, even worse, someone he's put away?

“I've got it,” Damen says, snapping his fingers. “I cut you off in the parking lot earlier.”

Laurent blinks.

“No,” he says, frowning. “I took a cab here.”

“Hmm. Well then...did you go grocery shopping today? I snatched the last organic locally grown farm to market pear out from under someone this morning, but I didn't even look at who I had devastated as I clutched it to my chest and ran out of the store. Was that you?”

“No,” Laurent says, “although it does sound like you just admitted to stealing.”

“I've got it,” Damen says. “Never mind, I figured it out. I fought with you in a Walmart at midnight on Christmas Eve for the last Tickle Me Elmo. I knew I recognized you.”

Laurent scowls at him. “Fought with _me_? Exactly how old do you think I am?”

“I know exactly how old you are. 1989, wasn't it?” Damen asks, his eyes twinkling. “Or were you lying about that, too?”

“Okay, fine,” Laurent says, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Fine. You got me. You've seen through my extremely complicated deception. I'm aware of George Orwell's oeuvre and I know the difference between Animal Farm and Animal House, and I know Hocus Pocus isn't a documentary, although I will die on the hill that it's one of the best Halloween movies ever made, so you'd better not push me on that front.”

“Okay, see, now I know you were just playing dumb,” Damen says, smiling down at him. He has a dimple at the corner of his mouth, and Laurent groans inwardly. His plan this evening hadn't exactly been foolproof—obviously—but he hadn't really counted on one of his targets being so attractive, or attentive.

“You know,” Damen says gently, “if you weren't interested you could have just sent the drink back. I wouldn't have been offended.”

“I'm...that's not why I did it,” Laurent says, wondering if he can blame the blush he knows is there on the wind.

“So why, then?” Damen asks. “Did someone put you up to this? Am I on some sort of crappy reality TV show right now?” He narrows his eyes and studies Laurent's face. “Maybe my parents stole the last Tickle Me Elmo from yours, and this is some sort of family revenge quest?”

“Oh my god, if you don't believe a word I've said tonight—which would actually be rather astute of you—please believe that this has absolutely nothing to do with Tickle Me Elmo.”

“So it's down to a game of truth or dare or a reality TV show,” Damen says. “Which one? I think I'm owed that answer, at least.”

“No TV show,” Laurent says. “And no one put me up to this. In fact, my brothers tried to talk me out of doing this at all.”

“At least someone in your family uses their brain.”

“In my defense,” Laurent says, unable to really be offended by that assessment even though he really, really wanted to be, “I had a very bad day today. And I maybe drank a little more than usual to compensate for that. And your blonde jokes were very bad. And very loud.”

“Ahhh,” Damen says.

“It was just a perfect storm, really.”

“And so your plan was to, what. Make everyone think you were exactly as dumb as the jokes they were telling all night?”

“I mean, yes.” Laurent cocks his head. “If I tell you it wasn't the best idea I've ever had, would you believe me?”

“I would hope that wasn't the best idea you've ever had. You're not a very good at playing dumb, you know. I figured out something was up halfway through your little performance.”

“But that really wasn't the point, was it?” Laurent says, waving a hand dismissively. “Your friends bought it because they were too angry to see past what I was saying to them, and they didn't have the obvious attraction towards me that you did to temper that anger.”

“I don't think it was _that_ obvious--”

“And now they're going to be pissed at you because they think you were only thinking with your dick, and not your brain, like you couldn't see what a dummy I was because of my pretty face. They'll be giving you shit about this for months, trust me.”

Damen narrows his eyes. “Dammit, you're right. You don't mince words, do you?”

“Only when it suits my purposes.”

“You know, instead of playing into the dumb blonde trope you could have tried to subvert expectations by being an incredibly smart, sophisticated blonde.”

“Who's to say I'm not?”

Damen gestures broadly. “I don't know, practically everything you've said tonight?”

“Fair enough,” Laurent shrugs.

“So, you got your revenge on us for us being hugely crass jerks,” Damen says, leaning his forearms on the balcony and bumping his shoulder into Laurent's. “My friends will cringe now when they think of a good blonde joke, which is their punishment, and they'll be giving me shit about you for months, which is my punishment. Mission complete. Why are you still here, then?”

“I--” Laurent stops, and looks out over the city. Why _was_ he still here? He had accomplished what he set out to do, such as it was, and had managed to sow enough discord into the lives of the anti-blondes that they'd be feeling the impact of his work for a while. Coming up here with Damen was not part of the plan, and didn't serve his purposes. So what was keeping him here?

He gestures out towards the city, the grand view beneath them, but makes sure he's looking up at Damen through his lashes when he answers.

"I'm enjoying the view," he says.

And Damen fucking _smolders_. Laurent has no defense against that kind of look. He turns away, knowing that his cheeks are flaming under that heat, and for a moment they're both just content to stand in silence next to each other and watch the city go on beneath them.

“Tell me something true,” Damen says quietly.

“Something true?” Laurent repeats.

“Yeah, you know. The opposite of what you've been doing all night?” Damen says, smirking at him.

“I'm familiar with the concept,” Laurent says, and lets out a breath. “Okay. Something true.”

Laurent closes his eyes for a moment. Usually questions like these set his teeth on edge, made him feel like he had to dredge up some sort of forgotten childhood memory or secret idea in some sort of performative gesture of good faith, but he got the feeling that Damen wasn't really looking for something like that. Before he even has time to pick out the most advantageous piece of information he can, or turn the whole thing into some sort of pickup line, he finds himself blurting out the first thing on his mind instead.

“I've been thinking about quitting my job,” he says, the words tumbling out of him. When he looks over at Damen to see how this confession has been received he's surprised to see that he looks interested, not dismissive at all.

“I haven't told anyone that,” he says, laughing at himself. “Everyone would think I'm crazy. I have a reliable, prestigious job that pays extremely well. And I'm excellent at it. Probably one of the best, in all honesty.” He half expects Damen to challenge him on his ego, but Damen just looks puzzled. “And it's challenging, and it keeps me on my toes, and I have, frankly, ridiculous vacation time and bonuses, but...” he trails off, hoping the universe can fill in the rest of that sentence for him, even though it hasn't yet, no matter how many times he's asked.

“Why would you want to leave, then?” Damen prompts.

“It's just...have you ever had something mapped out in such detail that you lose sight of the big picture? So much so that when you get to the place that you've been striving towards your whole life, you start to wonder if it was even what you wanted in the first place?”

Damen gives a short laugh. “My grandfather went to Yale. My father went to Yale. My older brother went to Yale. Guess what decision I didn't really get to make when it was time to look at colleges?”

“Exactly,” Laurent says. “And who would go to Yale if they could help it?”

“Well, that's not really--”

“And sometimes I just wonder if I'm really doing what I'm meant to do,” Laurent says. “Or, I guess, if I'm really doing what makes me happy. I feel like I'm just doing what my family expects me to do and I don't want to let them down, and they're proud of me, of the work I've done. And my older brother has the same job I do and he _loves_ it, and he's so good at it, and I feel like he would do it even if he wasn't being paid. But I just...I can't seem to find that same enthusiasm for it. And I've spent so long trying to convince myself that I like it that I have no idea what I'd rather be doing.”

“I understand,” Damen says, staring forward. “My job sounds really similar to yours, actually, and I do like doing it, but sometimes...sometimes I feel like leaving everything behind and opening a bakery or something.”

“Yes, exactly,” Laurent says, and then considers. “Well, maybe not a bakery. I'm not a morning person. Do you like to bake?”

“I mean, not particularly,” Damen says, fidgeting, “but maybe, I'm not really sure. I'd like to work with my hands. I'd like to be able to help people. I don't know, I haven't had too much time to think about it, honestly.”

“Me neither. And I'm afraid I'm going to retire when I'm sixty and realize that I never got to do what I was really meant to do, and then it'll be too late, you know?” He sneaks a look over at Damen and lets out a small laugh. “Oh god, I'm rambling now. You've opened the floodgates. I guess that's probably not really what you wanted to hear, is it?”

“And what is that you think I want to hear?” Damen asks, turning towards him.

Laurent shrugs. “I don't know. That I'm hopelessly attracted to tall, dark, handsome men who ask me disarming questions and don't care that I lied to them and their family for twenty minutes when they were just being nice and buying me a drink. Maybe. Something like that.”

“Well,” Damen says, “is that true?”

“Why don't you answer me something,” Laurent says, ignoring the question. “Would you still look at me like you are right now if the stuff I was saying inside earlier wasn't an act? If I really believed those things?”

“And how, exactly, am I looking at you right now?” Damen asks him, his voice low.

“No, stop. Don't get distracted. Would you still be attracted to me if I was really as dumb as your brother and cousin think I am?”

“Okay, listen. I am attracted to you, lets just get that out of the way.”

“I thought it was a given, but go on.”

“But attractiveness isn't everything. Your looks were what made me send over a drink, that's true,” Damen says, plunging onward. “But if you hadn't turned out to be so...strange, a conundrum, I probably just would have parted ways with you. That's what really interested me. That's what made me invite you up here.”

“Oh, a conundrum, I do like that,” Laurent purrs.

“And then it turned out that you were even better than I had thought. Clever and witty and playful,” Damen says, leaning in close, and Laurent hadn't even realized that he had turned his body to meet him but now that he does he doesn't turn away, “but most importantly, you were honest. And that's what made me kiss you.”

“Made you, huh?” Laurent asks, as Damen leans in slowly, slowly. A small part of his brain realizes that Damen is giving him space and time to turn away, to slip out if he wants.

He really, really doesn't.

“Practically forced me to, really,” Damen murmurs, and then reaches down and kisses him.

Damen's lips are warm and so so soft, and he tastes like the good whiskey from the bar downstairs. Laurent puts his hands on Damen's arms because he's afraid if he doesn't he might just float away and he isn't surprised to feel strong muscles under his grip. He can't help but to dig his fingers in and feel all that muscle flex underneath his touch, either an unconscious reaction or a voluntary movement, and Laurent doesn't really care which it is. Damen makes a sound that's halfway between a sigh and a laugh as he puts his hands on Laurent's waist and drags him closer. Laurent shivers.

“Are you cold?” Damen asks, pulling away just far enough that Laurent would have to reach up on his toes if he wanted to kiss him again.

“No,” Laurent says, “the opposite, actually.”

“I have a confession to make,” Damen says, and he doesn't move his hands and so Laurent doesn't either, just stays in the warm circle of his body.

“Please don't tell me you're straight,” Laurent says.

“I'm not,” Damen says, laughing. “Bi and proud. But I do sort of have a weakness for blondes,” he says, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind Laurent's ear. “And an even bigger weakness for blondes with a little bite to them. I think you may be a problem.”

“I think you have no idea,” Laurent says, pushing up on his toes and pressing against Damen's lips once more. He snakes his arms around Damen's waist and puts his hands in Damen's pockets, finding his phone and fishing it out, but not before biting at Damen's lower lip, causing him to make a totally indecent groan that Laurent feels pinging away inside of him like a ricochet. He pulls back before he does something wholly inappropriate for a public setting and looks down at the phone. The home screen is a picture of Damen and the other two men he was here with at the beach, all three of them shirtless and smiling in the sun, and Laurent blushes.

“No passcode Damianos, really?” he says, swiping through to his contact list. He types in his number and sends a text to himself, saving the contact info under just a simple letter—L. He passes the phone back to Damen, who slips it back into his pocket.

“I'm an open book, sweetheart,” he says, his eyes dark enough to get lost in.

“Call me sometime, then,” Laurent says, impulsively reaching forward to give him a quick peck on the cheek before pushing away and heading back downstairs. He glances back over his shoulder to see Damen watching him hungrily, and he smiles. “I'm quite the bookworm.”

* * *

_Auguste_

Well, how'd it go tonight? Did you give those jerks what for?

_Nicaise_

Did you show em how it's done?

_Auguste_

Did they see what happens when you mess with Laurent de Vere?

_Laurent_

Oh

It was fine.

_Nicaise_

UMMM

_Auguste_

yeah, we're gonna need more than that

_Nicaise_

you ranted about them for an HOUR, L

we deserve the truth

_Laurent_

I mean, there's not much to tell

I pretended I was dumb, they got really mad and thought I was an idiot

_Nicaise_

excellent plan, btw

_Laurent_

And that was pretty much it

_Nicaise_

I just don't know if I told you how staggeringly brilliant the whole idea was

_Laurent_

You did, actually

_Auguste_

so did they like, swear off blonde jokes forever?

was that even the goal?

_Laurent_

I mean, no, they didn't

I don't know what the goal was, honestly

It's kind of late, maybe we should pick this up tomorrow?

_Nicaise_

you mean after we forget about it or after you come up with something to distract us with?

_Auguste_

hmmmm

_Nicaise_

cause I'm not going to forget about this

the most brilliant plan of all time

_Laurent_

I'm just really tired, is all

_Auguste_

something happened

_Laurent_

What? Nothing happened

_Auguste_

no, I'm sure of it.

they didn't hurt you, did they?

_Laurent_

What? Of course not

_Nicaise_

yeah I feel like if he could of called the cops he would of done that

_Laurent_

It's “could have”, Nic

_Nicaise_

yeah well maybe you COULD HAVE come up with a better plan, but I seriously doubt it

_Auguste_

What were their names?

_Laurent_

Their names? I dunno, why?

_Auguste_

you spent a whole evening with them and didn't learn their names?

_Laurent_

That wasn't really the point of the whole exercise, you know

_Auguste_

so you are telling me right now that you don't know their names. You, Laurent, my precious brother whom I trust with my life, are going to clearly write out in a text message (which constitutes unassailable proof) that you didn't get any of their names, and you are going to send that text message to me, your most beloved brother, with said proof written within. Is that what you're saying?

_Laurent_

Don't you use your lawyer voice with me, Auguste. I got their names, okay? I just don't see the point of these questions

_Nicaise_

OH MY GOD I FIGURED IT OUT

_Auguste_

Hit us with it baby bro

_Laurent_

Oh I'm sure this is going to be just great

_Nicaise_

So one of them was hot, okay? And L got super flustered by how hot he was (cause he's lame like that and just really horny cause he hasn't gotten any in a while) and thought the super hot guy would like dumb blondes cause bitches be crazy like that but then the super hot guy turned Laurent down at the end of the night because he was such a dork but the truth was

_Laurent_

Please do not ever say or type the word horny in my presence ever again

_Nicaise_

the truth WAS

laurent wasn't pretending at all, and was a dork all along

_Laurent_

That makes little to no sense.

_Nicaise_

the real dorks were the men that we conned along the way

_Auguste_

I think you're on to something, Nic

_Laurent_

Auguste! Don't condone this kind of blasphemy

_Auguste_

I don't know if I'm condoning it, I'm just kind of seeing the wisdom in it

_Laurent_

The fact that you saw any wisdom at all in that rambling, practically incoherent mess makes me worried for your sanity

_Nicaise_

how dare u

_Laurent_

Okay look. If you guys stop making wild accusations about me I'll tell you

_Nicaise_

hang on

::Jason Momoa folding chair gif::

_Laurent_

That's just what I needed, thanks

_Auguste_

::Stephen Colbert eating popcorn gif::

_Laurent_

Okay, never mind, I'm out

_Auguste_

NOOO Laurent come back I will call you, I swear to god

like on the telephone

_Nicaise_

I will come over there

_Auguste_

I will make you speak to me with your voice

_Laurent_

Fine, just shut up and let me type

Don't call me

…

There was a guy, he was super hot, he figured out I was pretending to be dumb, and I kind of

…

we maybe kissed a little

_Auguste_

AAAAAAAAHHHH

_Nicaise_

No way! Are you going to see him again?

_Laurent_

I mean, I gave him my number, so we'll see if he calls

_Auguste_

GET OUT

_Nicaise_

More like GET IT

_Laurent_

I doubt he'll call.

_Auguste_

why wouldn't he? You're a catch

_Nicaise_

Send me a picture

_Laurent_

I didn't take a picture of him, Nic, I'm not a creep

_Nicaise_

it's not creepy, I just want to see!

plus tbh I don't really trust your taste in men

he could be a serial killer

_Laurent_

I don't know, it's just a really unusual circumstance to meet someone in?

Plus his friends loathe me

Nicaise, settle down, I swear he's not a serial killer

He is disgustingly attractive, you will just have to trust me on this

_Auguste_

Laurent, seriously. If you like him you should go for it, I think

it's been a SUPER long time since anyone has even caught your interest

Regardless of how you met it sounds like he likes you

_Nicaise_

It's totally a meet cute situation

_Auguste_

also if anyone can put up with that kind of crazy right off the bat they've got to be a keeper, right?

_Nicaise_

you will both be featured on a buzzfeed list when you get married

_Laurent_

Thanks

…

That was meant to be sarcastic, I feel like it didn't come off as such so I just wanted to clarify

_Auguste_

Honestly that's just an assumption I make about all of your texts

_Nicaise_

yeah same

_Laurent_

Thanks guys. I'm really glad that I came clean to you and had this harrowing conversation instead of going to sleep before the most stressful day of my life tomorrow.

_Auguste_

aww, that's so sweet

_Nicaise_

love you guys

_Laurent_

okay that was totally sarcasm but now I feel bad

I love you guys too

I'll let you know how it goes

_Auguste_

I love my baby bros

Get some sleep

_Laurent_

❤️

_Nicaise_

😴❤️❤️❤️  
  


* * *

  
  


“Damen! Head outta the clouds, son,” Makedon snaps. “Today is a big day. A big day.”

“Yes sir,” Damen says, slipping his phone back in his pocket. He had written and deleted at least a dozen text messages to Lo, nearly making himself crazy trying to figure out if he should wait a few days to text or not. In the end he decided that he wouldn't wait, even if it made him seem desperate, but Makedon had interrupted him right before he could hit send.

“I finally found our trial lawyer for the Guion case,” Makedon says, forcing Damen's attention back to actual work and not his pathetic pining. Makedon's leading him through their office at a clipped pace, heading towards their meeting room, and Damen rushes to catch up. “You'll never guess who we got.”

“Don't tell me that Matlock returned your calls.”

“Very funny, kid,” Makedon says, glaring at him. “But no. We got someone even better. Laurent de Vere.”

“No way, seriously?” Damen says. He had never met Laurent, not in person, but he had seen some transcripts of his oral arguments that had blown him out of the water with how brilliant they were. One of the lawyers who had worked against him told Damen that arguing with him was like trying to build a bridge out of mercury.

“Seriously. He's expensive as hell too, which is why you'll be working with him. You're the most up to date on everything going on with this case, so I want you to be his right hand man on this. Not to mention you're the smartest asshole we've got,” Makedon says, raising his voice so the other employees can hear him. Damen catches Nikandros' attention and Nik rolls his eyes theatrically.

“Got it, boss,” Damen says, not bothering to hide his smile. They reach the end of the hallway and Makedon throws the door to the meeting room open—and Damen's smile falters.

Standing there on the other end of their ethically sourced mahogany table is Lo, wearing the slickest fucking suit Damen has ever seen in his life. His hair is expertly styled and perfectly coiffed, his eyes sharp and devastating. The difference between his demeanor last night and the man standing before him now is like the difference between a friendly walk on the beach and a tightrope walk across a pit of sharp sticks. With snakes. And fire. Damen briefly entertains the notion that Lo has a twin, and _that's_ who he's seeing in front of him right now, and then violently pushes that image away before it becomes too distracting.

“Laurent de Vere, this is Damianos Akielos, my best and brightest,” Makedon is saying, elbowing him in the ribs, and Damen realizes he's been staring. “Damen, I want you on top of him 24/7, you got me? Anything he needs you give it to him, anything at all. And Laurent,” he says, turning towards the slightly flabbergasted blond demon at the other end of the room, “you use Damen here however you want. He'll be your slave for the foreseeable future. Don't be afraid of riding him too hard, he can take it.”

Lo—Laurent—coughs. His cheeks are stained pink now and that, at least, is something that Damen can reconcile with the man he had met—the man he had _kissed_ —last night.

“Well. Thank you for that marvelous introduction, Makedon. I'm sure Mr. Akielos will be adequate for my needs.” Laurent holds out his hand, shooting Damen a warning glance. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Akielos.”

Damen stares at the hand offered to him with thinly veiled distrust.

“Go on, son,” Makedon says, clapping him heartily on the shoulder. “His bark is worse than his bite, I'm told.”

“I have a feeling that's not quite true,” Damen says, but reaches out to take his hand anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Am I capable of writing something without Nicaise, Auguste and Laurent being brothers who love each other and who are all very much alive? I mean yes, probably, but why would I bother?
> 
> Also props to the lady who asked me for 1984 written by Orson Wells last week, I'm sorry I stole your idea and I hope you don't read this.


End file.
